


True Love Isn't the Kind you See in Storybooks

by TheHobbitsAragone



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aragorn is a sweetheart, But he's not as cold as in the movies, Coming of Age, Elladan and Elrohir are BAMF, Elladan and Elrohir are good friends, Heartbreak, I don't know what I'm doing, I will add more tags later, Legolas doesn't know what he's doing, Legolas is still a BAMF, Lots of confusion, M/M, MUST PROTECC, Teen Romance, They’re still annoying though, Young Legolas Greenleaf, but I do intend for it to have more than one chapter, he is not a damsel in distress, legolas is a smol bean, poor child legolas, sensitive artistic legolas, so he's less BAMF, this is a short fic, this is just from when he was younger, uwu, weird-ish relationship between Legolas and Thranduil?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 10:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18141170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHobbitsAragone/pseuds/TheHobbitsAragone
Summary: Meet Legolas: a soft-spoken, poetic adolescent who prefers to lose himself in fantasy rather than witnessing the remnants of his once beautiful home crumble. As he nears maturity and starts to become more and more independent, he decides to go on his first trip alone. Destination? The magical land of Rivendell. He is excited to speak to fellow thinkers and artists, but when his eyes land on a certain handsome elf, will it be too much to handle?This is going to be a short fic but it will have multiple chapters.





	True Love Isn't the Kind you See in Storybooks

_“Such was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.”_

The words were spoken by a soft voice. It wasn’t quite the gruff rasp of a man, nor the rich, velvety tones of an elf. It was young and filled with emotion, a bit breathless from the lack of pause and excitement. Passionate, but never overwhelming. It felt much like a brush of satin against your fingertips- smooth and delicate and sensual, making you reach out for more.

But the quiet boy swinging his legs to and fro from his seat of the sturdy branch of an oak tree wasn’t heard by anyone but the bright stars above him, slowly fading to reveal the coming dawn. It was those glittering, silver jewels that he serenaded in hushed tones, his book laying in his lap as the words rolled off of his tongue, long memorized.

Legolas couldn’t remember when he’d first read the book, only that he’d been instantly enamoured by the seemingly fictional city that was mentioned in it.

_Rivendell…_

The sparkling fountains and neatly trimmed gardens and softly trickling rivers seemed so different from the reality of his own home, slowly becoming poisoned and fading. The tree he sat on hummed in agreement, speaking of an immeasurable pain that made Legolas’ heart ache for the defenseless inhabitants of the plagued forest.

_No, no. I mustn't think of such things._

He hopped down from the tree branch with grace, giving the tree a small pat of thanks before walking back towards the magnificent castle that was his home. There would be plenty of time to recite poetry in Rivendell. For now, he needed to lie down for a while and pretend that he has been asleep before beginning his journey.

His soft footsteps on the stairs woke no one, and as he slid underneath the covers of his bed and awaited the sunrise, he let out a soft sigh of contentment.

_Rivendell._

* * *

Morning crept softly upon the Woodland realm. However dark the shadows were in Mirkwood, the mornings remained bright and filled with the chirping of birds and trickling of rivers. With hopeful thoughts and a spring in his step, Legolas hurriedly gathered his pre-packed bags and rushed off to the stables where Calroch, his dear old horse, awaited him for the fantastic journey.

“Woah there, young ellon.”

Legolas yelped in surprise as he skidded to a sudden halt. Grabbing him by the collar and hiding his fond smile was none other than his father, King Thranduil of Mirkwood.

“Good morning, Adar,” Legolas said breathlessly, dropping into a quick bow and standing again, unable to wipe the grin off of his face.

“Ai, settle down, Legolas. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had breakfast and fixed those god-awful braids,” the King said fondly, smoothing over the fabric of his son’s tunic and ignoring the pout he received from the boy with a skill that comes only with years of experience in raising a child.

“But, Ad-”

“But nothing, Legolas. No son of mine will present himself in public with his hair looking like a dwarf’s beard.” The matter-of-fact tone of the reply forced Legolas into silence, following his father until they reached the King’s room.

“I wanted for us to spend a few moments alone before you leave, Ion,” Thranduil admitted as they sat on the bed, the affectionate nickname slipping out in his sincerity. He gestured for Legolas to turn around and began to loosen the young elf’s braids, running a comb through the pale blonde strands. He fingered at the hidden streaks of silver, smiling painfully.  _Just like his mother…_

Legolas sighed, all too familiar with this particular habit of his father’s. Thranduil’s rhythm faltered before he shook his head and continued with the small task.

He was worried. He was so, very worried. To him, Legolas was a mirror of his mother- a powerful soul trapped in a delicate form. So pure, so malleable. He knew that Legolas was nearing maturity. He knew that his son had to go through certain trials in order to earn his worth and become a confident, successful young ellon. And yet, every time he imagined those youthful, bright blue eyes being cast down with the weight of wisdom, he felt less willing to let Legolas go. He debated what would be worse: seeing his son’s crestfallen face as he denied him permission to go or the realization of one of the thousands of horrific scenarios that had run through his mind throughout the week if the trip somehow went wrong.

These thoughts ran through his mind as he mindlessly braided Legolas’ soft hair, nodding stiffly at the quiet “thank you” that came from the young ellon.

“Legolas…”

Doe-like blue eyes met startling silver ones as father and son sat together in silence. Thranduil had so much to tell him that he didn’t know where to begin. Twice he tried to speak and failed.

“I will miss you, Ion nin,” he said softly, deciding not to burden Legolas’ young heart with his worries. He was shocked when Legolas wrapped his arms around his large frame in a careful embrace.

“I will miss you more, Ada.”

Finally, Legolas let go of his father and stood, bowing down completely with a final farewell.

“I will not let you down, my King.”

Legolas’ sharp footsteps grew softer and softer as Thranduil stared at where he had stood mere seconds ago.

“I know you will not… my son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. Y'all probably already know this stuff, but here it is:  
> Ion= son  
> Ion nin= my son  
> Ellon= male elf  
> Adar= father (formal)  
> Ada= dad (informal)


End file.
